


To Loki, With Love

by kyrilu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Dark, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Gore, References to Norse Mythology, Violence, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 23:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrilu/pseuds/kyrilu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“But I made a mixtape for you. Well, a music playlist, because kids don’t do that these days any more.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Loki, With Love

**Author's Note:**

> For [ssfrostiron's contest](http://ssfrostiron.tumblr.com/guidelines), round two. :)
> 
> This fic is set vaguely in seizure7's amazing [Unspeakable Company](http://archiveofourown.org/series/28736)/[Vanity Flair](http://archiveofourown.org/series/28158) verses, but works as a stand-alone. Thank you for giving me the green light to post this. :D

“Loki, babe. I’ve got something for you.”

Loki caught sight of Tony hidden behind his glowing screens, bent over a table. He was holding something sleek and dark in his hands. “Oh?” he said.

Tony cleared away the screens with a swipe of his hands. His mouth was turned up in an absurd grin. “A phone. Since you’re going all eldritch-powerpuff-girl traveler on me. Think you can bother to text me sometime?”

“I do not think mortal devices work in other realms, Stark.” Loki cocked his head, but he stared at the phone nevertheless.

There was the Stark Industries insignia on it--Tony had modified this for him. He raised an eyebrow.

“Anyway,” Loki continued, “I have no need of a phone. I’m going to be busy. I do not have time to play with this device.” He added with a smirk, “But thank you for your offering.”

Tony’s mouth formed a mock-pout. “I’m not stupid; I know there’s not any cell towers on other planets. But just in case, or whatever. Maybe you could figure out how to enchant it to have reception. Or save naked pictures of me on there. For all your lonely nights.”

“Naked pictures,” Loki said flatly.

“So, not your kink,” Tony said. “But I made a mixtape for you. Well, a music playlist, because kids don’t do that these days any more.”

“I don’t need music _\--_ ”

“I put songs here that reminded me of you,” Tony cut him off, effortlessly putting the phone on Loki’s palm. “Romantic, isn’t it?”

The phone’s screen was smooth, and Loki glanced over it, sighed. “Whatever you say, Stark. I suppose I can-- _text_ you when I am back on Midgard.”

“Don’t forget your earbuds,” Tony said, smiling like the utter idiot he was. He tucked the string into Loki’s shirt--wire, Loki identified, and he said, “Stay safe, babe.”

Loki returned the smile. “I will decapitate a beast in your name, darling.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tony said. His voice was soft, his fingers still on Loki’s collar, and Loki leaned in to kiss him deeply--that sentimental _dolt._

* * *

 

Garm howled at Loki when he approached the gates of Niflheim. The hound jerked forward, the chain rattling at his neck, and Loki gave him a flash of a smile, continuing toward the realm of the dead.

He did not expect for the gates to suddenly burst open.

Loki cursed. He called, “ _Hel_ ,” but he knew it was too late. It was that time again.

The time when the dead ventured outside.

He didn’t have time for this.

Loki caught the first stumbling body, growling, his knives flashing across its throat and chest. Dried blood splattered on his blades, and Loki spat a spell at it, banishing it home.

Then the second body came, and the third. Loki conjured duplicates of himself, which drew them away from him, and with their backs turned, he blasted them apart with magic.

“I need to go to Niflheim,” he snarled. “Let me pass, Hel.”

She didn’t respond, nor call her undead back.

The stream of the dead were coming--they usually amounted to a hundred each time. One hundred half-souls in ragged bodies, mindless and destructive. Loki could smell them. The rusty scent of blood and rotting organs. He could hear the trampling of their feet upon the ground, closer and closer.

“ _Let me pass_ ,” he said, and he lost himself into the crowd of corpses.

He slashed at them. He flashed magic. He was drowning in their smell and their lifelessness, dreary and heavy, and they were dulling him.

Loki needed to change the battlefield.

He swept his hand, and they were in Jotunheim.

He wanted to leave them there, but he would rather piss Hel off then do this neatly. Loki closed his eyes languidly, the drifting snow warm on his skin, and said, “Come, now. Come get me.”

The mass of undead gurgled in reply. Many were disoriented, thrown by the snow. Skeletal feet buried in the ground. Cold freezing over their remains.

Oh, this will be fun.

Loki disappeared from where he stood, reappeared into the thick of them. He summoned an explosion of green, riding the wave of it, and a dozen of the undead were torn to pieces. And then he did it again.

Again.

Again.

His magic soon tired. He took out his knives and he put them into decaying skin, finding the places that made them crumble and collapse.

Loki was wading in bones and hair and clothing to his ankles, his breath coming out harsh from his chest. They were dead for good.

He crushed a wriggling bony hand underneath his boot.

He looked at the icy waste of Jotunheim, and knew he had yet to converse with Nilfheim’s abominations.

He did not know what bid him to put the mortal device into his ears, then, to listen to Stark's music.

Perhaps it was because his ears were ringing with the undead’s groans, and he was already hearing the dark language of the Ancients rolling from his tongue. Perhaps it was because his daggers were worn down despite being magic-sharpened, and the snow made him feel _blue_ and so very small, and he wished for something to fill the space.

The songs were blatantly _obscene_. Crude. Loud and sexual; mad and pulsing; crass and erratic.

Anthony Stark, his _darling._

Covered in grime and gore and Jotunheim snow, Loki laughed and laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the [fanmix](http://chaperoned.tumblr.com/post/56843087128/to-loki-with-love-a-tony-stark) which inspired this fic, made by Fin, who is incredibly _brilliant_ as a friend, beta, and general contributor to frostiron fandom. ♥
> 
> My personal fanfiction headcanon is that this links to [Tantrum](http://archiveofourown.org/works/552839), in that 1) it's how Loki got a phone and 2) it's why he needed new boots.


End file.
